A Word for the Axe 
yet, because he “loves his trees/’ they must 
remain. If he really loved trees, and really 
cared for beauty in general, it would hurt 
him more to see a tree palpably out of place 
than not to see it at all. 
If this super -sentimental feeling protected 
only fine trees one could at least compre- 
hend its existence. But quite as often it 
protects the most feeble, ill-grown, and ugly 
specimens. Hundreds of Norway spruces, 
for instance, and of exotic pines, so far de- 
cayed that they are all but dead, disfigure 
our parks and cemeteries. No one professes 
to admire them or to think that they may 
improve. Yet there is sure to be an out- 
cry if their remnant of life is threatened. 
They are trees, and therefore sacred ; their 
sanctity is not impaired by the fact that they 
are moribund, any more than by the fact 
that, even if they were flourishing, the gen- 
eral effect of the scene would be better with- 
out them ; whatever they are, however they 
stand, he is a heartless vandal who says, Cut 
them down. And it is the same in private 
grounds : one daily wonders why this or 
that perishing tree is preserved, and accepts 
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